


Affinity

by brightdreamer, magpie4shinies



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightdreamer/pseuds/brightdreamer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/magpie4shinies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Sam expected from finally attending Alan's charity ball was leaving early with Tony Stark. But then, who could anticipate Tony Stark?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affinity

**Title:** Affinity

**Authors:** Brightdreamer and Callmeshiny

**Fandoms:** Tron: Legacy and Iron Man

**Pairing:** Tony Stark/Sam Flynn

**Rating:** NC-17

**Word Count:** ~9300

**Summary:** The last thing Sam expected from finally attending Alan's charity ball was leaving early with Tony Stark. But then, who could anticipate Tony Stark?

**Warnings:** Very slight age kink.

 

"Have you tried the toasted brioche with goat cheese?"

 

Sam looked up from the tray he was eyeing just as he felt a hand settle lightly at his elbow. He shifted away and turned.

 

Then looked down. The man who'd invaded his personal space with such thorough efficiency was half a head shorter than him, with dark hair and lightly tanned skin. His teeth were very white and even, all displayed in a confident smile that told Sam he might have an issue with this one. There was something familiar about the face, but it wasn't until Sam met his dark eyes, crinkling faintly from the almost-smirk, that he recognized him. "Mr. Stark," he said, blinking. "Uh...no, I haven't."

 

_One of my heroes just made the beginnings of a pass at me. Fantastic. Damn it Alan... I don’t care what you say, I'm contributing anonymously next year,_ Sam thought, forcing a smile.

 

"Good, don't. It's terrible," Stark said, waving the waiter away. "So."

 

Sam tilted his head a fraction. "So?"

 

"A needle pulling thread," Stark sang. "But no, I kid. What's your name, handsome? Since you already know mine."

 

Sam smiled faintly even as he found himself taking a deep breath and testing the air for wafting fumes from the massive amount of booze he suspected Stark of drinking already. "Sam Flynn."

 

Stark started to close the distance between them, and Sam's eyes widened -- _is he going for a hug?_ \-- before he stopped that train by holding out his hand to shake. Stark had the option of stopping immediately or running diaphragm first into Sam's hand.

 

To Sam’s relief, Tony gripped his hand in a firm handshake, holding on only a fraction longer than would be considered decent by any normal standards. “Sam. Please, call me Tony. Only investors call me Mr. Stark. Unless, of course, you’re wanting to invest some of that fantastic Encom money in Stark Enterprises, but then we wouldn’t be talking, your people would be talking to my people, and all that boring stuff. Read your dad’s work, by the way, brilliant, a little crazy, but brilliant, just the way it should be. Can I buy you a drink? It’s all an open bar, but let’s just say I’m buying you one anyway, shall we?”

 

Blinking, Sam found himself herded toward the bar by a gentle but firm hand on his elbow, Tony confidently leading the way, weaving their way through the clustered groups of people. “I wasn’t planning on...”

 

“Oh, come on, drinking’s the only way these things are bearable.” Tony shot him another sparkling grin, easing his way to the crowded bar. “Now, let me guess. You look like a whiskey and coke type of guy. Or is it beer for you?”

 

At the moment, Sam wanted nothing more than a beer at home on the couch with Marv curled up at his feet, but he shrugged in resignation. “Beer’s fine.”

 

As Tony flagged down the bartender, Sam glanced around, pondering various avenues of escape, but then it was too late, and Tony had two drinks in his hand, holding the beer out to him with a grin. Taking it, Sam managed a smile... it wasn’t every day one of your heroes “bought” you a drink, after all, even if he did talk a blue streak, and even if he was better looking than anyone else here...

 

_Whoa, back that thought up right there._ Sam forced took a deep drink from the tall glass. “Hm. What’s that flavor...”

 

“Tar and ambrosia, I imagine,” Tony said, waving a hand. “A local microbrewery supplies this place. Very green, very trendy. Incredibly expensive, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Sam replied. Now that he’d caught himself, he found he was leaning toward Tony to again, trying to subtly catch his scent, and not to check for booze this time. _Well, it’s better than staring at his mouth, I guess,_ he thought glumly. _Damn it, Alan._

 

“So. You’re here, I’m here--”

 

“Don’t you have a date?” Sam interrupted between smaller sips from his glass. Tony blinked and Sam, sensing a brief advantage, pushed it. “I mean, don’t you usually bring the loudest, most obnoxious celebutant to these things?”

 

Tony winced and started to glance around, then froze. “I may have outdone myself, this time.”

 

Sam laughed reluctantly. "Who did you bring? She can't be that bad."

 

Tony sort of smirked and grimaced at the same time. "Oh, she's attractive enough that the first half of the evening was worth it," he muttered. "I had plans to let her ride me home, you know?" Sam wondered if that was directly an allusion to sex or if it took a brief detour to remind him of the whole kick-ass Iron Man thing on purpose.

 

"Then we got here and she started going on about how I need to donate to help the support infrastructure so the lobbyists she works with have another thing they can really point to in trying to have abortion made illegal. After that, she excused herself to vomit at least one of the glasses of wine she'd had."

 

Sam winced. "Wow. Sounds like a winner."

 

Tony shrugged. "Well, you can't win them all. Besides, it gave me the chance to meet you. Serendipity, wouldn't you say, blue eyes?"

 

“Uh...right,” Sam said slowly. “So your date’s a bust. How come you’re still here?”

 

Tony cocked his head. “Bright, handsome young man like yourself, I’m not allowed to come over and chat?” he asked, pouting. “That’s just not fair, Mr. Flynn.”

 

Sam laughed in spite of himself, something he was sure was familiar for many of Tony’s conversation companions. “Sam. You can call me Sam.”

 

Stark smiled. “But that would be familiar of me,” he pointed out, leaning in.

 

_We’re flirting_ , Sam realized. _I’m flirting with Tony Stark_. “Well, you _did_ tell me to call you Tony.”

 

“You should _definitely_ call me Tony,” Stark replied with a faint leer.

 

“I guess we’re familiar, now, then,” Sam said, mouth quirking in bemusement.

 

“Great!” Tony said, taking a sip of scotch, if Sam guessed correctly. “Now, what shall we talk about?”

 

Sam couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting down.

 

“Hey, sailor, my eyes are up here.”

 

Sam huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I just...you implanted an _arc reactor,_ ” he said, eyes shifting back to Tony’s chest briefly. “In your chest. It’s incredible.”

 

Tony smirked. “The reactor’s pretty cool, too.” He leaned closer, glancing around as though about to tell some big secret. “I’d show you, but they always get annoyed when I start taking off my clothes at these things. I give Pepper enough PR work as it is. Course, we could always go somewhere a little quieter...”

 

Sam took a quick gulp of his beer to hide the flush that he felt creeping up over his cheeks. “Pepper...?” he asked, not quite ready to answer the unspoken question hanging between them.

 

“The lovely Ms. Pepper Potts. Personal assistant. Couldn’t do anything without her, wouldn’t have a company to run. Well, I would. But it wouldn’t run as well. Something like that. Anyway.” Tony was definitely in Sam’s personal space now, and Sam could smell the mingled cologne and scotch from the man. He smelled _expensive,_ that was the only way he could think to describe Tony. “My place is pretty quiet right now, if you want to see more of the... arc reactor. Or if that’s not your speed, I’ve got a garage full of classic cars men have wept to see.”

 

Sam gave himself a moment to think as he drained the rest of his glass... when had that become nearly empty, anyway? The slight buzz of the alcohol was settling in, and he could only think that this was a _phenomenally bad idea_. Was he really going to let himself get picked up like this? He glanced over at Tony, waiting expectantly with that confident half-smile and mesmerizing brown eyes and...

 

Yes. Yes, he was. “Well, I am a big fan of the classics.”

 

A few minutes later, Sam found himself standing on the front steps of the ballroom, hands in his pockets. He’d sent Quorra a quick text, saying he might not be back tonight and asking her to go check on Marv. Tony had said he would catch up... Sam wondered if they would take the limo back to Tony’s place, then. He hoped his motorcycle would be all right in the valet for the evening... or if he would follow him there...

 

“Ready?”

 

Turning, Sam saw Tony appear at his elbow, much as he had earlier in the evening. “Sure. So, am I following you home or what?”

 

“Oh, I sent my driver home,” Tony replied with an absent wave of his hand. “Don’t really need two vehicles going there, now do we?”

 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “I only have my Ducati. Motorcycle?”

 

“I know.” Stark’s smile was mischievous as he held out his hand. Suddenly, there was a helmet placed there, brought over by one of the busboys. “I plan for all occasions.”

 

Shaking his head, Sam fished in his pocket for the valet ticket. “Looks like you do.” He handed over the ticket and turned to face Tony while they waited.

 

He stood casually, shorter than Sam by almost a head but with the kind of attitude that Sam was only just noticing. His suit was tailored to accent the breadth of his shoulders and chest, drawing Sam’s eyes down to his waist. He wanted to look lower, see what the tailor had done for Tony’s pants, but had the feeling that would be too much in public. He didn’t want to have to live with reporters tracking him down at his new apartment now that it was finally feeling like home, and God only knew what Alan would say.

 

“Enjoying the view?”

 

Tony’s voice broke Sam out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d been staring far longer than was appropriate. Tony was smiling faintly, and Sam shrugged in response. The guy was an intentional attention sink most of the time: Sam doubted he disliked open appreciation. “I don’t hate it.”

 

The familiar purr of his bike revved, not far, and Sam looked that way automatically before glancing down at the helmet and tugging at the chin strap. “You sure about this?” he asked, glancing over at his erstwhile companion.

 

Tony cocked his head. “Since we’re heading to my fabulously decadent mansion where I intend to give you a very special tour of my garage designed to further what I suspect is already a...healthy appreciation for classic cars...shouldn’t that be my question?”

 

Sam’s mouth twitched. “You going to ask it?”

 

The attendant coasted to a stop at the curb beside them, popping out the kickstand and dismounting away from them. Sam was amused to see he’d tucked his pant legs into his socks.

 

“And give you the chance to change your mind?” Tony smirked. “Never.”

 

It startled a brief, incredulous stutter of laughter from Sam. “Right.” He set his helmet on, shifted it comfortably, and buckled the strap. “Because you don’t get laid enough.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes as he adjusted the straps of the helmet he’d probably had that waiter run out and purchase. “Maybe you can help me then, since I can never remember the answer: exactly how much is **enough** sex?”

 

Sam snorted. “Fair enough,” he muttered, throwing a leg over the bike and shifting to take the weight on his right leg to close the kickstand. “You coming?”

 

Tony settled easily behind him. “Oh, it’s a little early yet for that, darling. But rest assured, I have faith in your abilities.”

 

Sam couldn’t help looking back even though the helmet completely prevented him from seeing Tony’s face. “I’m not the one with the million-dollar reputation.”

 

Tony laughed as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and pulled himself closer, closing the distance between them so that they were pressed together firmly. “I’ve got a good eye.”

 

Sam pushed off the ground and eased onto the throttle. “Whoever told you that was probably staring at your ass,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the increasing rumble of the engine and grinning as he felt Tony shudder against his back in a mostly quiet laugh.

 

One of Tony’s arms tightened deliberately and the other slipped an inch lower. Sam’s hands tightened on the handlebars. Tony tapped his stomach deliberately and didn’t drop lower. Sam swallowed, reading the touch as an admonition and a challenge and deciding to let Tony win this one. He wasn’t going to play games with their safety on the road and he wasn’t sure how far Tony would try to take it.

 

Considering the guy regularly went out and beat down giant robots and terrorists, he probably had different ‘acceptable amounts of danger’ thresholds than Sam. It was a novel experience for someone who regularly snuck past armed guards and had jumped from a helicopter at a pretty low altitude to interrupt a televised event.

 

Tony pointed to get them started and, with that direction, Sam had a rough idea of the way to his place. When they pulled up to a stop sign, Tony confirmed it.

 

~

 

“Jesus,” Sam whispered. Tony was already sliding off of the bike behind him, but his attention had been caught by the garage. Tony hadn’t been joking when he’d described his collection. “This is...”

 

“Amazing, I know,” Tony said, cupping Sam’s shoulder and tugging him around to get at the chin-strap. “Tilt your head.”

 

Sam blinked, automatically responding to the pressure before he’d fully processed the request and found himself holding still as Tony unbuckled the straps and tugged the helmet from his head.

 

“ **Welcome home, Mr. Stark.** ”

 

Sam nearly jumped out of his expensive (rental) tuxedo as the soothing but obviously mechanical voice echoed around them. Tony merely smirked and reached over to tap a few keys on a translucent keyboard on a nearby workbench.

 

“Hello Jarvis. Think you could shut off for awhile? I’ve got a guest.”

 

“ **Absolutely, sir. Will you be requiring anything? Coffee, brandy, lu-** ”

 

“No, no, that’s fine.” Sam could feel his face burning as Tony interrupted the... computer butler? Was he really that transparent? He supposed it was rather obvious what they were doing here. “Oh, and make sure you send a car to pick up my... previous date, what’shername, you know. Mitchel’s service, if they’re free.”

 

“ **Of course, sir.** ” If a computer voice could sound smug, this one did. “ **And should I have the Stark Special sent from the closest florist?** ”

 

Tony blinked, brows arching faintly before his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Add a note about what a lovely time I had, you know the drill.”

 

Sam’s own eyebrows were inching up slowly. _How often does he do this?_ he wondered, thinking back to the complete lack of surprise on the faces of any of the wait-staff.

 

“ **Very good, sir. If you require anything else, you know where to find me.** ”

 

Tony smiled at Sam, hands reaching up to pluck at Sam’s jacket, but Sam had a question. “Why is your AI British?”

 

“Uh...yeah...” Tony shrugged. “It was his choice. I don’t judge.”

 

“Really.” Sam cocked his head.

 

“Really.” Tony smirked. “Now, my charming matryoshka doll, allow me to help you remove a layer or three.”

 

“I bet you say that to all the guys.” Sam’s hands were already going to the uncomfortably tight bow-tie around his collar, however, loosening it and allowing it to fall untied around his neck. “These suits do have too many layers, though. And I thought you were gonna show me that arc reactor.” Reaching out, he palmed over the front of Tony’s shirt, biting his lip as he felt the rounded, hard edges of the foreign object implanted in his chest.

 

Abruptly, he found his wrist caught in a surprisingly strong grip, Tony’s eyes fixed on his face with a briefly unreadable expression. Freezing, Sam wondered if he’d done something wrong, crossed some invisible line, but a smile soon wiped away the seriousness, and the grip eased, Stark’s fingertips trailing up his wrist. “Sure, sure. All in good time, right? So impatient.” His hands slid up to Sam’s shoulders, then down again, caressing over the lapels of his tuxedo jacket before deftly unfastening the buttons. “Still. Too many layers, don’t you think?”

 

Glad that the brief moment of tension had passed, Sam shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over a nearby workbench. “Yeah, definitely.” Backing up, he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Tony until he felt the back of his knees hit something metal and unyielding. Glancing back over his shoulder, he drew in an appreciative breath at the sight of the silver Audi R8 Spyder behind him... that car was worth more than a year’s rent on his apartment. Maybe two years.

 

“See something you like?” Tony’s voice was much closer, and Sam looked forward to find the other man directly in front of him again, his own jacket and tie already stripped off.

 

Sam laughed faintly, caught. “I like a well-crafted body. What can I say?” He leaned back, settling against the hood of the car, his knees spread slightly, the slope of the body’s design tugging one higher.

 

Tony smiled. “I can think of a few things.” He leaned forward and pressed gently on Sam’s chest, fingertips slipping under the open collar. Sam took the hint and braced his arms behind him and tugged himself back and up. Tony smiled, fingers spreading against Sam’s skin, warm and rough with calluses.

 

“There we go,” Tony murmured. One hand slid inside Sam’s shirt, working its way down, popping open the last few buttons and causing Sam’s stomach muscles to twitch involuntarily. A soft “hah” escaped his lips as Tony’s other hand smoothed over his inner thigh, kneading lightly, urging his leg up higher, bending his knee further.

 

Heat and pressure that close to his groin was another tease after twenty minutes on the motorcycle, Tony pressed against his back much closer than required, one hand riding low on Sam’s waist, and Sam hadn’t been able to do _anything_ when Tony _accidentally_ exhaled against the bare strip of skin between Sam’s helmet and his collar at a red light.

 

He didn’t have a reason not to respond now, and reached out, gripping Tony’s finely tailored, outrageously expensive dress shirt in a fist and tugged him forward. Tony allowed it, leaned down and braced against the hood, his arms bracketing Sam’s shoulders, pressing against Sam from chest to hips as his lips met Sam’s. Sam smiled against his mouth for a moment before he focused on the smooth slide of Tony’s lips and the slightly rough, almost tickling feeling of his beard against his skin. Humming faintly with pleasure, he hooked his leg over Tony’s hips, drawing him closer and rocking up against his thigh.

 

Tony leaned forward, trapping Sam’s hand between them as he pressed himself against Sam. The arc reactor was unforgiving against Sam’s knuckles, rougher than the skin he was nearly touching there. It reminded him how much power was coursing through the other man right now, what it had taken to keep him alive and what he’d been able to do. It sent a fresh wave of heat down his spine, pooling in the small of his back and threading warm fingers forward into Sam’s dick. Sam’s next rolling thrust was harder than even he’d expected, brain briefly shutting down with the lust he’d been blind-sided by.

 

“Easy, there,” Tony murmured against his lips, one hand trailing down to press firmly against Sam’s hip, rubbing over his thigh. “Don’t want this party over before it’s even started, right?”

 

Sam snorted, tilting his head back to meet Tony’s eyes. “Not an issue,” he said firmly. “But speaking of issues...you sure you’re going to be able to get it up, old man?”

 

Tony’s grip on Sam’s hip tightened. “I’ve got plenty of props around if I need them, sweetheart,” he said, voice dropping as he leaned forward, holding Sam’s eyes until the last possible second before he turned his head, dragging his cheek lightly over Sam’s jaw before biting lightly at the skin of his neck. Sam shuddered, surprised, and Tony smiled against his cheek, rocking his own hips against Sam’s, showing that it most definitely was _not_ an issue. “Thanks for keeping your eye out for me, though.”

 

Wriggling his hand out from between their bodies, Sam flicked his fingers at the buttons of Tony’s shirt, finally getting the first few unbuttoned. “Think you’re still wearing too many clothes.” He pushed the shirt open, fingers grazing over a white undershirt beneath. Looking down, he could see the blue glow of the arc reactor, outlined through the thin fabric. His eyes flicked back up. “Can I...?”

 

Tony cocked his head. “Go to town, sport.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes but ignored it to undo the rest of the shirt. His eyes lingered over the dim glow of the reactor through Tony’s undershirt on the way back up as he met Tony’s eyes. “Cuff links?”

 

Tony shifted back enough to hold his arm between them and undo first one, then the other. Sam swallowed, trying to work up some saliva to moisten his suddenly-dry mouth as Tony’s hands moved into his view: callused, rough, obviously the hands of someone who did his own work, who wasn’t afraid to get dirty, who refurbished cars and built an arc reactor out of missile scraps to keep his own heart going...

 

“Oooh,” Tony breathed. “Somebody has a thing.”

 

Sam licked his lips and forced his eyes up. “I don’t...”

 

Tony grinned. “It’s fine if you do.” Sam opened his mouth to protest and Tony folded down his sleeve, giving Sam a clear view of the graceful function of his wrist, the delicate bump of bone under skin and the strength obvious in the developed muscles flowing into his palm. “And really, we both know it, now. Why deny it?”

 

Sam shook off his embarrassment and shrugged faintly, mouth quirking up. “Well, if you weren’t being such a Victorian about getting undressed,” he muttered, leaning up to push Tony’s dress shirt off of his shoulders.

 

Sitting back, Tony smirked down at him, shrugging out of the crisp white shirt completely and tossing it somewhere off to the side. Following him up, Sam wasted no time in tugging his own off, huffing slightly in frustration as his wrists caught in the still-buttoned cuffs. A moment’s struggle against the fabric, and then he was reclining back on the car, shivering slightly at the feeling of the cool metal and glass against his bare skin. “C’mon,” he murmured, smoothing his hands over Tony’s biceps, drawing him closer, smooth, warm skin and firm muscle under his fingertips.

 

For once, Tony obliged without comment, pressing against Sam from hips to chest, his mouth trailing over Sam’s jaw to his neck, beard scratch-tickling his skin. Gasping, hips rolling up again involuntarily, Sam worked his hands down, along Tony’s sides, tugging at the tight white undershirt, wanting to feel more bare skin against his own. He had the shirt ruched up to Tony’s shoulders before the other man drew back with a reluctant-sounding groan to strip the shirt completely off. “There, better now?” Tony started to dive back in for another kiss, but Sam stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

 

Now completely visible, the arc reactor glowed blue-white against Tony’s tanned skin, ringed in silver metal, pulsing faintly with power. It reminded Sam of the lights of the Grid, where everyone and everything was lit from within, programs and buildings alike glowing with a gentle blue. On impulse, he trailed his hand down Tony’s chest, palm pressed flat until he reached the reactor. Hesitating only briefly, he circled his fingertips around the edge, feeling his own heart beginning to pound faster as he became more bold, brushing his fingers over the glowing surface. “It’s warm,” he said with some surprise, raising his gaze to meet Tony’s.

 

“Adjusts to my body temperature,” Tony replied, his voice slightly breathless. “Couldn’t have it lowering my core temperature, otherwise I’d be shivering. Too much the other way, I’d be sweating constantly. Used to run a little hot, and that took some... ah...” His ramble was abruptly cut off as Sam decided to slide down the car, pushing up on one elbow to lick a path from Tony’s collarbone to the edge of the reactor. Tony was forced to shift, straddling Sam’s waist, as the younger man moved low, sliding down the slope of the car’s hood.

 

Sam shivered, repressing a moan as he tasted the other’s skin, the tang of metal touching his tongue, an electric thrum underneath. He flicked his tongue around the rim of the reactor, feeling Tony shudder above him, a hard length pressed against his stomach as the other man rocked his hips faintly. It was intense enough without the rhythmic shift of Tony’s weight teasing him a few inches above where he’d like it to be, and Sam pressed his mouth to the seam of flesh and metal, both warm but the textures so different under his tongue, and sucked gently.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Tony breathed, sliding a hand into Sam’s hair. “That’s...yeah, OK, we can work with that.”

 

Sam grinned against him, lips tingling from the energy under his mouth. His skin was smooth and soft and Sam sucked hard, lips slipping on the metal. Tony’s hand went tight in his hair, tugging him back a hair before pushing him forward firmly and Sam laughed as he dragged another kiss over Tony’s chest. “Pushy!”

 

Tony smirked. “I know what I want and I go for it. Lucky for you, eh?”

 

Sam shrugged faintly, mouth moving over Tony’s skin for another moment before he tilted his head back to respond: “I could’ve found something to do tonight.”

 

Tony arched an eyebrow and leaned back, sitting more heavily on Sam’s stomach, holding Sam’s head in place. Sam licked his lips, watching Tony tap his arc reactor and then stroke along the edge. “Not like this.”

 

Sam couldn’t deny that. “No...” He bit his lip, eyes focused on that hand haloed in blue, moving smoothly over the slick skin and metal where his mouth had just been. He leaned up, wincing when Tony tugged back on his hair in a warning.

 

Tony didn’t even try for innocent. “Sorry, did you want something?”

 

Sam glared. “A little freedom to work would be nice.”

 

Tony widened his eyes. “Ooooh. By all means.”

 

“Dick,” Sam muttered, moving forward with a vindictive determination and pressing one hand to Tony’s wrist, pinning his arm to his chest so when he got close enough, he could slide his mouth messily over Tony’s fingers on his reactor. It added a new texture to the variety already present. Tony's chest was soft, smooth skin over firm muscle along side the solid metal in his chest. His fingers were rough with calluses from work he’d done -- on the suit, maybe? -- and the burst of sweat and alcohol on his tongue made him realize how much his chest tasted of copper, the taste of metal faint but still present on the skin around it.

 

The combination made him hyperaware of how his tongue and the roof of his mouth were tingling. He tilted his head and used his tongue to press Tony’s index finger up and moaned when it touched the roof of his mouth.

 

Tony inhaled sharply, fingers flexing in Sam’s mouth automatically as Sam instinctively sucked them further into his mouth. “Do you have an oral fixation?” he asked. “Because I can absolutely help you out there--”

 

Sam pulled back, turning his head a little to let Tony’s fingers slide from his lips. He was still bracing against Tony’s chest, holding his arm against his ribs and he forced himself to take a breath. His mouth was still sensitive, but he had a better grip on it now that he was expecting it. “Shut up,” he muttered. “You talk too much.”

 

Tony smirked. “You’ll have to give me something better to do with my mouth.”

 

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes at the same time. He realized, with some surprise, that he was having fun. He usually enjoyed sex, but it was rarely this...silly. “Get down here.”

 

Tony obligingly leaned down. Sam found he was forced back into the hood of the car as Tony refused to relinquish the hold on his hair with the arm he used to brace his weight on. “You wanted something?”

 

Sam shivered, feeling his body heat sink in from above, a contrast to the cooler metal at his back. “Shit. Fuck, just...” he rolled his hips, nudging Tony forward just enough to press their mouths together and mumbled “come on,” voice muffled against Tony’s mouth. Working his hand lower between their bodies, he tugged on Tony’s belt, managing to unfasten it and pop the button open on his trousers. His fingertips slipped inside, feeling heat, brushing the damp tip of Tony’s cock through the fabric of his (silk?) boxers. Mind clouded with increasing lust, Sam broke the kiss, his head falling back to the metal hood of the car. “You got anything here or what?” he panted, glancing over to the myriad workbenches and cars scattered around the room. He wanted far more than a quick handjob right now.

 

Tony chuckled, his breath huffing warmly against Sam’s neck. “Yeah, yeah. I got...” he paused, lifting his head and tilting it with a curious expression. “Well. Huh. Got condoms, right here in the car. But... heh.” He grinned down at Sam, and Sam instantly knew he wasn’t going to like the next part. “How do you feel about motor oil?”

 

“Aw, hell no.” Grimacing, Sam pulled his hand out of Tony’s pants and shoved at his shoulder. “Bedroom, right now. I assume you have something -- sorry, _actual lube_ \-- there?”

 

“What?” Tony laughed, but sat back, trailing his hand down Sam’s chest. “It’s synthetic, high-viscosity, new, clean, best stuff money can buy.”

 

“And it’s for _cars_ , not my ass,” Sam retorted, pushing at Tony again, despite the shiver that ran through him when the other man brushed his fingertips over his stomach, just trailing along the edge of his waistband. It was almost enough to make him rethink things and just stay here. “Unless you wanna do things the other way around...?” Tony’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, Sam thought he might seriously be reconsidering the idea. “You said it was _high-performance_ , right?”

 

Tony snorted. “Next time, OK? I’ll wear the suit and act out all your filthy fantasies.”

 

That was completely unfair, but it got Tony pushing off of him and tugging him up off of the car, so he let it slide. Sam shuddered again at the feeling of Tony’s hand trailing down his bare arm, plus the promise of _next time_... well, it was enough to have him following Tony eagerly up the stairs out of the garage. He had to force himself not to be distracted by the sight of Tony’s ass as he walked up the steps ahead of him... it was tempting to just push him against the wall of the curved staircase and finish stripping him _right there_ , but no, no, there was time for later. To distract himself, Sam looked around, took in more of his surroundings.

 

The house was impressive: the entire place had been redone with the latest technology, but in a subtle way that seemed very minimalist. There were still nods to the original facade in the wood trim and the wide staircase, but Sam didn’t have enough focus to note anything more specific as Tony led the way down a hall lit with diffused light.

 

The bedroom was even more modern than the rest of the house, though less obviously... the way the windows shifted from a clear panoramic view to a slightly-reflective opaque as they stepped inside was only one indication. Sam didn’t have a chance to take in much though, as Tony turned to him a few steps into the room and drew one of his hands up to his mouth and sucked the tip of his index finger in with a gentle suggestion that did a good job of getting Sam’s pulse back where it had been five minutes ago. Then he tugged it out and smiled. “Where were we?”

 

Sam moved forward, trapping both of their hands between them briefly as he pressed close and pressed his mouth to Tony’s. His lips were faintly damp and bruised soft from their earlier kissing, inviting him to press closer, sliding his fingers through Tony’s hair, pulling him closer.

 

The edge of the Arc reactor pressed into his wrist when he leaned in that last little bit separating them, the hard ridge against his wrist as a small reminder not to get too caught up in this moment, or it might be over too quickly. He pulled back and quickly looked toward the large bed dominating the center of gigantic bedroom, getting a fix on it in his mind, then shifted back far enough to finish unfastening and removing his clothes. He kicked off his shoes and stripped out of his rented suit pants, not minding where they fell, then dropped his boxers... somewhere.

 

In the back of his mind, a niggling voice said that he should _probably_ pay attention to where his clothes were, as he’d have to be getting dressed to get out of here later, but... at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Hell, his shirt was still back in the garage.

 

Tony watched with an appreciative expression, moving to lean against the dresser, folding his arms. “Now that’s a view I could get used to,” he commented as Sam finished stripping.

 

“Gonna sit there and enjoy it all night, or give _me_ something to watch?” Sam laid down on the bed, leaning on the expanse of white pillows, and folding his arms behind his head with one knee bent up slightly, giving Tony what he knew was the best possible _view_ he could.

 

Tony’s dark eyes raked over him, and Sam suppressed a shiver, feeling the gaze like a physical touch, his cock pulsing faintly in response. “Oh... I think I can handle doing both,” Tony replied after a heated pause, pushing away from the dresser, his hands moving to the half-unfastened fly of his trousers. Stepping toward the bed, he kicked off his shined dress shoes, then slid his pants down, much slower than Sam had done, his eyes still locked on Sam’s the whole time. Confirming Sam’s suspicion of silk boxer shorts (red, of course), he trailed his hands back up as he stepped out of his pants and toed out of his socks, thumbs dipping just below the waistband, revealing a dark trail of hair leading down. Sam found himself licking his suddenly-dry lips as Tony eased the elastic over the tip of his cock, sliding down teasingly slow, and oh, when had his hand slipped down from behind his head to start lightly stroking his own shaft?

 

“Really, you can’t wait for me even another minute?” Tony’s voice was smug as he placed one knee on the bed, leaning over to smooth his hand over Sam’s thigh. “Don’t want you to get ahead of me, now.”

 

“You were taking too long,” Sam retorted, though he smiled up at Tony and reached for him, tugging him fully onto the bed, sheets and puffy white comforter already being pushed to one side. He hummed softly in satisfaction as Tony’s warm weight settled next to him, one leg draped over his. “Now, where were we, again?”

 

“I think we _were_ down on the hood of my car, but this is more comfortable,” Tony said with a smirk. “And I think we’ll have to break in the car another time, don’t you? Well. Maybe not that one. Leather cleaning’s expensive.”

 

A warm feeling spread through Sam at the thought of _another time_ , but he hid it by pulling Stark down for a rough kiss. “I think you can afford it,” he murmured against his lips before dropping back to the pillows. “But we’re here _now_ , so... how about that lube, huh?”

 

Tony smiled. “Jarvis?”

 

**"Yes, sir."**

 

Sam craned his head as movement flickered in the corner of his eyes. "Do you seriously have a lube dispenser built into your bed?"

 

Tony frowned. "God, no. That would be tasteless. Also, entirely inefficient. This is an _all purpose dispenser_ , connected to almost every room in the house. Really need to get it connected to the garage, though, now that I think of it. Last week, it brought me a box wrench, three apples and my universal remote."

 

Sam relaxed into the bed. "Oh, OK. As long as it's not weird."

 

Tony smirked, leaning up to reach over Sam into the revealed cavity in the built in headboard behind the bed. "Eccentric, please. I'm rich."

 

Sam grinned. "Oh, my apologies -- wait, wait!"

 

Tony paused, arm still lifted, wrist held loosely in Sam's grip. "Hm?"

 

Sam quirked a brow. "It isn't cherry, right?"

 

Tony snorted. "Please. That's sophomoric, even for me."

 

"Carry on, then." Sam let go and stretched his arms to either side as Tony settled back on his haunches, tapping a small tube of lubricant against his hand.

 

"My pleasure. Jarvis, dim the lights 73 percent," Tony said, and then dropped the tube beside them on the bed.

 

The lights dimmed in a steady reduction, making the arc reactor the main source of immediate light. Shadows pooled in the dips of Tony's collarbone and more shallowly in the grooves of his biceps. His arms cast high shadows along the wall and the ceiling as he leaned forward, stretching and then melting into the small shadow behind him as he slid his fingers over Sam's sides.

 

Sam let out a faint sigh as Tony's fingers skated over his ribs, just firmly enough that the calluses didn't tickle. "What's this? I thought we were a little further along."

 

Tony's laugh was a warm, sleazy entendre curling into Sam's ear. "Just restoring the mood. You cooled off a little, firefly."

 

“You’re the one who’s glowing, so watch the nicknames, there,” Sam retorted, then caught his breath in a hitching sigh as Tony rubbed a thumb into the hollow of his hip. “Ah-h... don’t tease, come on.”

 

“Your wish, princess,” Tony murmured, cupping his hand over Sam’s cock.

 

The heat was a minor shock after the chill of the air in the room and then Tony wrapped his fingers around him and squeezed gently. Sam’s mouth grew dry and he realized it had fallen open as Tony thumbed under the head, sending small shocks of pleasure through Sam. “Fuck...”

 

Tony smiled slowly. “There we go. You young people and your instant gratification...”

 

Sam snorted. “You’re not that old... _grandpa_.”

 

Tony cocked his head thoughtfully, then twisted his wrist. “What was that?”

 

Sam shuddered. “Ahh--”

 

“I don’t really like grandpa,” Tony confided, massaging Sam with rhythmic pressure. “Or daddy, to be honest. I’ve had a few women who liked to call me Papi, though. If you’re looking for suggestions.”

 

“Not gonna happen,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth. “Didn’t you say something about fucking me?”

 

“Are you always this pushy?” Tony asked as he let go of Sam’s erection and reached for the tube. “I’m not complaining, mind. Just curious. Grab your knees.”

 

Sam blinked and then Tony had his arms bent and hooked behind his knees as he leaned forward, folding him in half. “What-- _oh, god!_ ” He barely noted the fact that Tony had a finger inside him, feeling the slick pressure and thickness.

 

“I answer to that one, too,” Tony said mildly as he waited a moment, giving Sam time to register and adjust to the depth of the first finger before sliding a second in beside it. “How’s that?”

 

“Good, great,” Sam grunted. “Keep going.”

 

“Bossy, bossy,” Tony tsked, and began carefully working Sam open with one hand and placed the other one on Sam’s stomach, thumb brushing the head of Sam’s erection.

 

“Fuck,” Sam hissed as Tony’s fingers spread him open further and a third finger slid in. The generous lubricant on the first two was becoming almost ridiculous, just this side of too much. It was exactly what Sam needed, having been away from the scene for a while, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated with the slow pace. He didn’t go in for casual sex often, but when he did they were usually fucking by now.

 

One-night stands weren’t this patient, usually were only after him for his face or his name... _oh_ that was good, Tony’s fingers curling just so, pressing against him just hard enough to tease, not enough to push him over the edge. “Tony... Tony...!” He couldn’t help the begging tone to his voice, couldn’t keep his eyes from falling shut, his head from tossing back on the overstuffed pillows.

 

“There we go...let it out, I’ve got you,” Tony said, voice rumbling through his chest against Sam’s shins as he leaned into Sam, starting to thrust with a little more intent than stretching had allowed.

 

Sam flexed, trying to change the angle of the thrusts enough to glance off his prostate again, and groaned when Tony pressed down on his stomach. “Not fair...”

 

Tony laughed. “Now, now, buttercup. Good things come to those who _wait_ ,” and Tony pressed home firmly, angled perfectly to give Sam into a mind-numbing burst of pleasure that wiped all thought from his brain.

 

After a moment, Sam slumped back into the sheets in a strange combination of incredibly wound up and briefly weak as his body came down from the shock of pleasure. “Tony, come on...”

 

“Oh, are you ready?” Tony asked mildly, pulling his fingers out almost entirely and thrusting back in shallowly.

 

“Yes, damn it,” Sam cursed, unable to stop his mouth from curling in response. “God, just fuck me already...”

 

Tony looked him over thoughtfully and then pulled both hands back. “Stay.”

 

“I’m not a dog,” Sam muttered, shifting enough to get comfortable and make a point. But he immediately grasped his knees when Tony was done cleaning his hands off on the sheets and pulling on a condom.

 

Tony stroked the back of one of his thighs as he directed his cock into Sam’s slick hole. “Good boy.”

 

“Fuck you,” Sam muttered, head forced back into the sheets as Tony’s girth stretched him just a bit more than his fingers had accounted for. “God, you’re b -- _wide._ ”

 

“I know.” Tony’s voice was entirely too smug, but Sam didn’t care, too focused on the thick heat filling him, pressing into him with everything he’d wanted since this man had stopped him in that ridiculous fundraiser hours ago.

 

Gasping, he clutched at Tony’s arms, legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him in deeper, wanting it harder, wanting... “nngh... _more...”_

 

“ _Shit, yeah, OK,_ ” Tony said, and gave Sam exactly what he was asking for, one hand braced on the bed for leverage and the other on Sam’s shoulder, pulling himself forward for that extra bit of force as he thrust.

 

Sam lost track of time as Tony moved in short bursts of concentrated strength, feeling the coil of tension in his shoulder and forearm where he was still holding him. “God, yeah...”

 

Tony watched him slide a hand down his stomach, eyes black in the dim light from pupils blown wide by lust. “You like that? Want to get off?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Sam muttered. “Come on, nng -- give it to me.” The glow from the reactor arc in Tony’s chest cast eerie shadows up into his eyes, flickering with every hard jerk into Sam’s body, and Sam could almost imagine he could feel the electricity powering the other man’s systems, filtering into him, hot and tingling like the circuits of the Grid.

 

“I don’t think...you need more,” Tony panted between thrusts. “Go on. Show me how bad you want it.”

 

Sam wanted to shake him up, see if he could get Tony as desperate as he was, and he remembered Tony’s expression from before. His fingers skipped over the transition of flesh and metal at first, too distracted by the set of Tony’s jaw, the dark line of his beard, but when the arc reactor hummed under his fingertips, shifting his attention there was the easiest thing. Tony’s rhythm faltered slightly as his eyes met Sam’s, and _there_ was some of the desperate want and need, highlighted by the stutter in his rhythm and the new tension to his jaw, lit by the glow filtering through Sam’s fingers.

 

_Tony fucking Stark_ , Sam thought, lifting his other hand from Tony’s arm and palming his own cock. Tony was still moving, hips still driving into Sam in short, sharp bursts that were good until they were _great_ and the arc reactor was a faint hum beneath his palm, smooth case giving way to warm flesh under his fingers and so, so good.

 

Sam rolled his head back and squeezed his cock, groaning in pleasure and increasing want. “Harder...” he panted, without realizing he’d asked aloud, then looked up at Tony through a haze of lust. “C’mon...”

 

“I do like to please,” Tony replied, voice rough with his own lust and building frustration. Hooking one arm under Sam’s thigh, he pushed his leg up higher, giving him more leverage to thrust into him deeper, the angle setting off fireworks behind Sam’s eyes.

 

For a moment, he couldn’t do anything as the pleasure destroyed his focus. It slowly returned, but the bright sparks of lust and need spiraling through his system didn’t abate. Tony had regained what steam he’d lost when Sam fingered his arc reactor and was improving on it, thrusts becoming shorter as he grew more desperate to come.

 

Pre-cum was leaking steadily onto Sam’s stomach now, slick on his fingers, easing the stroke of his palm over his straining cock. His legs were folded tightly around Tony’s hips, pulling him in and keeping him close and in the small space between them, Sam’s fingers trembled and grew tight around his cock with the strength of his need. His other hand clenched, scratching faint furrows over Tony’s chest before curling into a fist against the arc reactor. “G-gonna... nngh...!”

 

He wanted to make this moment last, wanted to feel the heat and electricity and connection just a little longer, just a little more, but then Tony shifted the angle just slightly, and Sam was flying over the edge, head thrown back, eyes closed and a scream ripped from his throat.

 

The aftershocks were intense and lingered enough that Tony was starting to lose the pace, hips stuttering. Sam’s hands had fallen from the strength of his climax and he gripped the sheets beside him, holding on tight and panting as Tony’s thrusts rode the edge between pleasure and oversensitive pain. “Come on...let me see you come, Tony...”

 

“Shit,” Tony swore, head dropping as he continued to thrust.

 

“That’s it,” Sam swallowed, the sensations washing through his body almost too much. “Come, Tony.”

 

“ _Fuck_.” Tony buried himself to the base of his cock and froze, eyes wide and unseeing for a long moment, the well-toned bulk of his chest standing out in sharp relief as he came.

 

Sam could feel a muted warmth as he filled the condom and sighed. Eventually, Tony’s tension eased and his posture softened again, letting Sam’s leg ease down to his side. Sam lifted a lazy hand, trailing over Tony’s shoulders, feeling the sheen of sweat there. “Wow.”

 

Tony smirked lazily, lowering himself to his forearms over Sam and then slumping to the side. “Go on. I like to do an occasional cross-comparison.”

 

Sam laughed, feeling too good to get even a little annoyed with the arrogance. “Amazing? Stupendous? Best night of your life?”

 

Tony was mouthing ‘stupendous’ when Sam said the last bit and it surprised a quick laugh from him. “Well...I don’t know about the _best_ one...flying under your own steam is pretty much perfect you know. But maybe second best?”

 

Sam thought about lightcycles and lightjets, a city over a thousand years old lined in neon, and nodded. “Yeah, actually. Sounds about right.”

 

Tony slowly eased to the side, and Sam groaned at the faint feeling of loss. Not quite wanting to get out of the bed just yet, but knowing that he should probably leave, he shifted lazily on the mattress, enjoying the soft feeling of the pillows and the silky high-threadcount sheets. He could feel Tony moving about beside him, and resigned himself to getting up soon...

 

Then Tony threw the fluffy comforter over them both and flopped down by his side. “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” He felt an arm flop across his waist as Tony laid down with a sigh. “Be surprised if you could walk after that, honestly.”

 

Sam thought about riding his bike home and cringed. “Good point.”

 

“Hm.” Tony stroked Sam’s ribs lazily, and Sam sighed and shifted more comfortably against him. Most, if not all of his infrequent hookups would have ended by this point, but he found he liked this closeness, the warmth permeated by the blue-tinted glow from the Arc reactor. It helped that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tony wanted neither his company nor his money. He was probably as good a hacker as Sam on the fly, and his resources were insane enough to grant him access everywhere anyway.

 

No, Sam was there because they’d shared a connection and were each feeling lonely enough to reach out. Tony started talking about an opponent’s recent gaff in the industrial community, and Sam could feel his voice vibrating through his chest and arm. He slipped easily into sleep.

 

 

 

Sam awoke slowly, stretching out on the expanse of bed, feeling sore in all the right places, aching and relaxed at the same time in the way that only a night of really fantastic sex could bring. Lifting his head and blinking, he frowned slightly upon finding himself alone in the unfamiliar room... _Tony Stark’s_ bedroom, his half-asleep brain helpfully reminded him. As he sat up, the room brightened gradually, the windows shifting from a dark sunglasses-like texture to clear glass, showing a fantastic view of the ocean, with overlaid statistics of temperature, time (9:30am), humidity, windspeed, and other variants that Sam really didn’t care to know at the moment projected in bright numerals.

 

“ **Good morning, sir.”**

 

Sam nearly launched out of the bed at the disembodied voice from above before he managed to calm. “Ah... hi. Morning.” He took a deep breath. “Jarvis, right?”

 

“ **Correct, sir. Mr. Stark is otherwise occupied this morning, but wished for you to know that any of the facilities are at your disposal.”**

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair, standing and wrapping the sheet around his waist, already looking for his discarded boxers and pants from the night before. He’d done enough morning-after walks of shame to know how this worked. Frowning, he glanced around the floor, then under the bed... he hadn’t remembered throwing his clothes _that_ far...

 

“ **If you are searching for your clothing, it is in the lavatory to your right. Your tuxedo is being returned to the rental store, but Mr. Stark procured other clothes for you.”**

 

Sam paused, huffed slightly, and nodded. “Thanks.” Of course. His clothes had been a bit scattered all over the house last night, really. But if Tony thought he could wear something of _his_ , well... it might look a little odd.

 

Draped over the back of a chair in the (ridiculously huge) bathroom, though, were a pair of boxers and jeans in exactly Sam’s size, a black t-shirt, and a grey hoodie. Sam’s socks and dress shoes were tucked underneath--they were the only items that weren’t a rental from the tux, and Sam had to laugh and shake his head.

 

After a longing glance at the multi-head shower, Sam decided against it and instead simply splashed water on his face and cleaned up a bit of the residual stickiness still on his stomach. He dressed quickly and finished in the bathroom, then peered back out into the master bedroom. No, still empty... what had he been expecting? Frowning at himself, he pulled his shoes on and started downstairs, intent on finding his motorcycle and getting out as quickly as he could.

 

The garage was easy enough to find, though he suspected the program Jarvis might have been subtly guiding him with lighted passageways and open doors. Making his way through the garage, he studiously ignored the silver Spyder _cold metal and glass at his back, a warm body pressing above him, heat and energy wrapped together_ and focused on his Ducati near the entrance. Fumbling with his helmet, he wondered if the household program would open the door for him, or if he’d have to find some sort of switch or passcode or...

 

“What, leaving so soon?”

 

Sam’s head jerked up at the sound of the voice behind him, and he dropped the helmet, watching it bounce and roll away to land somewhere near the garage door. Turning, he forced a casual smile, seeing Tony approach, though his voice caught in his throat for a split second at the sight of him. Jeans, faded Nirvana t-shirt that was _just_ tight enough, tennis shoes... somehow Tony Stark managed to look even more attractive in casual clothes than in a tuxedo. “Yeah, well. Y’know. Figured you were busy. ‘Otherwise occupied’ and all that.”

 

Tony grinned at him, shaking his head and picking up a white box from a worktable. “And I figured you for the type of guy who’d take advantage of that shower. It’s great. Designed it myself, got ten massage settings on it. Or twelve. I forget. Donut?” He held up the box, displaying a variety of sugared pastries. “Flew out early to get ‘em. Randy’s Donuts. Best place in town... giant donut on the roof, you know the type, sells out before nine am, gotta get there early to get the best ones.”

 

Slightly dazed, Sam chose a simple chocolate-glazed confection from the box and absently took a bite, leaning back against the seat of his bike as Tony continued to ramble. “There’s coffee, too, if you want it. Probably could find some juice or something too if you’d rather have that. Chocolate milk more your style, kid?”

 

A look to Tony’s face revealed a teasing grin, and Sam found his own lips quirking upward in return. “I’m not the one with sprinkles in my beard, old man,” he replied, reaching forward to brush the offending crumbs from the corner of Tony’s mouth. Tony turned his head slightly, just enough that his lips grazed over Sam’s fingertips, the warmth in his touch and his eyes a fleeting reminder... and a promise. Sam drew in a quick breath, but the contact was gone. Tony pulled away, an enigmatic smile on his face.

 

“So, gonna stick around? Could use your help on these suit modifications. Heard you’re some kind of genius yourself.”

 

Sam wavered, looking toward the bike and the door, then back at Tony. He had obligations, work he could be doing at Encom, responsibilities he’d taken on now.

 

To hell with it.

 

“Sure. I’ll stay.”

 

Grinning, he grabbed a to-go cup of coffee off the workbench and moved to Tony’s side.


End file.
